Behave/Back
Some men were legs men, some were breast men, or butt men. Me...its her back that causes me endless amounts of grief. The expanse of almost porcelain skin, as close to perfect as anything I have ever known, she shows it off on purpose, knowing that it will kill me slowly until I can get my hands on it, run my fingers down her spin, murmur incoherent words of want and need whilst my mouth follows my fingers. It's why I always rest my hand on her back when I want her to do something, because I know that she is thinking of the last time I ran my mouth down the length of her back. It makes us both look at each other with undisguised want and it takes everything I have not to pull her to me.
I love the way her hair used to tumble down her back, I love the way now that it is exposed by her short hair. I love the two dimples on her lower back, I love running my tongue over them, and I love the way she groans when I do.
"Behave." She playfully swats at me as I flick the switch in the elevator and run my hands down her back, she shivers under her hands and even through her clothes I can feel her skin heat up by several degrees. My hands find their way under her blouse and my fingers splay out against her back, flatten enough to render her immobile against my chest. The skin is warm and soft under my fingers and I spare a thought to my sanity, because being obsessed with her back is definitely not normal. I enjoy the look of arousal that flicks across her face. She may say that she wants me to behave, but if the look in her eyes is anything to go by, that is the last thing she wants.
V!
xox